TO THE LION OF LUCERNE. TINO, before you went away To crouch behind a sheltering Alp, How strong the limelight used to play About your bald, but kingly, scalp! And now, emerging from the shelf (A site where Kings are seldom happy), You must be pleased to find yourself Once more resilient on the _tapis_. Over your past (Out, damnéd spots!) With lavish bucketfuls you paint The whitewash on to clean its blots And camouflage the Teuton taint; From WILLIAM and the family tie Protesting your unbridled freedom, "I know you not, old man," you cry, "Fall to your prayers--you badly need 'em!" For Athens, to your great content, Calls you to be her guiding star (Only a paltry one per cent Wanted to leave you where you are); And you've agreed to take it on, Jumped at the prospect Fate discloses, And thought, "With VENEZELOS gone, Life will be one long bed of roses." But mark the oversight you made, Forgetting, while you waxed so fat, That England, whom you once betrayed, Might have a word to say to that; Might, if for love of your fair eyes Greece should decide again to wobble, Conceivably withdraw supplies And cut her off with half an obol. Roar loud, O Lion of Lucerne! But lo, upon Britannia's shore Another Lion takes his turn And gives a rather louder roar; Meaning, "It doesn't suit my views To subsidise two sorts of beano, And Greece will therefore have to choose Between her tummy and her TINO." O. S. * * * * * ABOUT GOLF. Golf is obviously the worst game in the world. I doubt indeed whether it is a game at all. It is played with a ball, about which, though I could say much, I will say little. I will not decide whether it should have a heart of oak or a heart of gold, whether it should go through a 1·6-inch ring or a plate-glass window, whether it should sink like the German Navy or float like the British. Enough, if not too much, has been said about the standard ball. Golf is also played with a number of striking implements more intricate in shape than those used in any other form of recreation except dentistry. Let so much be agreed. Now, quite plainly, the essential idea underlying all games played with a ball, whether a club, stick, mallet, bat or cue be added or no, is that some interference should take place with the enemy's action, some thwarting of his purpose or intent. In Rugby football, to take a case, where no mallet is used, it is permissible to seize an opponent by the whiskers and sling him over your right shoulder, afterwards stamping a few times on his head or his stomach. This thwarts him badly. The same principle applies, though in a milder form, to the game of cricket, where you attempt to beat the adversary's bat with your ball, or, if you have the bat, to steer the ball between your adversaries, or at least to make them jolly well wish that you would.